In the Belly of the (Sweaty) Beast

Early Tuesday morning I woke up in a panic.  I could have sworn something was crawling down my face and neck.

Turns out it was a couple of things.  Sweat droplets to be exact.  Big fat ones.

My first reaction was quick and without censor, the way most thoughts at 2 AM are: thank God I'm not running today.

Running during menopause poses its own set of challenges.  For me, the main one is trying to get a full night's sleep in preparation for a hard morning workout.  Lately, it's been like chasing the impossible dream.

I've had night sweats on and off for about two and a half years.  And their daylight companion, the ever-popular hot flash.  But up until four months ago neither was much of a problem.  Then in early May, some one or some thing flipped the heat switch to the "on" position.

These days I'm apt to be seen strolling around the house with my t-shirt up around my neck, a look I won't be taking on the road thanks to another new development: the meno-pot.

For decades my stomach was either flat or concave.  Now no matter what I weigh or how many crunches and planks I spit out, there's some extra junk in the front.  In menopause circles it's referred to as the meno-pot.  I like to call it the Boomer Belly.

So now my days are spent yanking my shirt up and down like a defiant toddler.  What's especially tricky is handling a hot flash while running.  The first time this occurred I thought I was coming down with the flu.  I felt dizzy and flushed, the way you do before the thermometer under your tongue flashes an over-100 degree reading.

But what has really interfered with my training is saying farewell to a good night's sleep.  I've always been someone who relished her eight-nine hours of solid shut-eye.  These days I'm lucky to get by with three hours of straight sleep before the sweat cycle begins.  From that point on I wake up on average every 90 minutes, often literally dripping.

If my morning workout is a particularly demanding one - say a tempo run or hill repeats - it's tough to pull off after a night of tossing and sloshing.  What I find works is to convince myself I actually slept well and just pray that saying so makes it true.  That and a good afternoon nap.

Which brings me to wonder how I would have coped if I still worked outside the home.  Back in the day when I was a sales rep for a major soft drink company, how could I have made it through a nine-hour workday after a lousy night's sleep? Especially given that I always scheduled my runs before arriving at the office.

It's doubtful I would have been able to cut it without a nap.  And that's near impossible to do when you're working full-time. 

How do so many of my fellow Old Gal runners do it? I would love to hear from you.

In the meantime, I take my hat - and my shirt - off to you.